


Delight

by nerdypipsqueak



Series: My Soul and Yours [14]
Category: A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia (1990), Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Seven Pillars of Wisdom - T. E. Lawrence
Genre: Bottoming from the Top, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdypipsqueak/pseuds/nerdypipsqueak
Summary: A counter-piece to Neither Deaf Nor Blind, this time from Feisal's POV.All the lovely flowers, here you go!
Relationships: Faisal I of Iraq/T. E. Lawrence
Series: My Soul and Yours [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515092
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12





	Delight

"...so he fired the shot and at that moment I was certain I was going to die! I felt, I'm telling you, I FELT the impact, it knocked me over!" Auda rambles. "I was lying there, waiting for death to come but nothing happened."

"What did you do?" Abdullah asks, eyes wide with awe and curiosity. Feisal sighs, he's heard this story more times than he would like, he knows it by heart.

"I reached to check the wound. And I found that there was no blood."

"How come?"

"Allah saved my life! He put this in my pocket. It stopped the bullet and saved me." Auda thrusts a hand into the folds of his thawb and produces a battered copy of the Quran. "I've carried it with me ever since and it has never failed to protect me."

Feisal glances over to where Lawrence is reclining against his camel saddle. The man catches his gaze and smiles lightly. Enticingly, he runs a hand along his neck, then brings it down to rest on his waist. Feisal watches, mesmerised, imagining his own hand following that same path. It's been days since their last chance to be intimate, there's hardly any privacy in Wadi Rum and the strain of it is becoming palpable.

Lawrence raises a questioning eyebrow. _Are we still needed here?_

Feisal considers. They've eaten, they've had tea, they've conversed and heard more than their fair share of Auda's tales. It wouldn't be impolite to retire. There's a small half-ruined shack at the end of the valley, they could hide there for an hour or two. Lawrence seems to be having the same idea as he inclines his head ever so slightly in the direction of the shack. That should do just fine, Feisal thinks as he makes his excuses and bids Auda a good night.

Once they're in the shack Feisal barely has time to set his lantern down. Greedy, desperate hands grab him by the front of his thawb, pulling at him, bringing their mouths together, lips and teeth clashing. He responds with equal ardour, lifting Lawrence off his feet, pinning him to the wall.

"You're so strong!" The Englishman gasps, his eyes sparkling with delight, excitement, desire.

"Isn't that what you love about me?" Feisal murmurs against his neck, pressing kisses to every inch of bare skin he can reach. 

"Oh God, please tell me you brought oil because I don't think I can let you go."

"My needy sweetheart, of course I brought oil. I've been carrying a vial with me for days now, waiting for an opportunity." 

Lawrence lets out a surprised giggle when Feisal detaches him from the wall and carefully lays them both down on the floor of the shack. What happens next is incredibly fast: hands pull at robes and sirwals, undoing, discarding, pushing fabric aside, the little vial of rose oil falls to the ground, both fumble for it frantically, desperate to make use of it. Then all of a sudden Feisal finds himself on his back, Lawrence straddling him, still half-clothed, gorgeously dishevelled, lowering himself onto his hardness.

"Sweetheart..."

"Yes." Lawrence rocks his hips gently, looking for that perfect angle.

"Look at you, so beautiful, so very beautiful." Feisal lets his hand wander up the other man's chest, stroking, caressing one rosy pink nipple. "You like it when I touch you like this, don't you?"

"Yes, yes..." Lawrence tilts his head backwards invitingly. Feisal sits up and latches onto his delectable neck.

"You are divine." He purrs. Lawrence lets out a low cry of pleasure, his movements speeding up.

"Please..." He moans, hands grasping at Feisal's shoulders, looking for leverage.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want."

"I... I want... I need..." He's so desperate he can barely talk and the realisation sets Feisal's flesh on fire. In one swift, firm movement he rolls them over, wraps Lawrence's legs around his waist and thrusts.

"Wait, wait!" Warm hands press themselves against his chest and he stops.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

"Did you hear that?" Lawrence whispers.

"Hear what?" Feisal stills himself (which, given the circumstances, is extremely difficult), trying to pick up whatever it is Lawrence may have noticed.

"A falling stone, I think. And moving sand."

"It's probably just an animal." Feisal nuzzles Lawrence's neck. "Don't worry about it. Let me love you."

Lawrence rocks invitingly against him and Feisal responds with all his passion...

"Are you sure it was just an animal?"

"Yes, sweetheart. There's no Turks here." Feisal soothingly strokes Lawrence's sweat-dampened hair.

"I'm not concerned about the Turks. There's others, closer to home, so to say, who would be interested in spying on us."

"Who are you talking about?"

"Ali, for example, Ali of the Harith. He wants me and you know that."

"Ali wouldn't dare spy on us. Not like this."

"Your brother Ali as well."

"He is foul-mouthed, opinionated, he can be perverse too but not that perverse. He wouldn't breach our privacy like that."

"If you say so..." Lawrence yawns. "Can we stay a little longer? I don't think I can walk just yet."

"Of course, sweetheart." Feisal kisses him softly. "Rest now. It's bound to be a long day tomorrow."


End file.
